Made in July, 2016
Thursday 8 December 2016
Monday 5 December 2016
A series of Black & White paintings.
Series done in 2015
Trying my hand at reflections...
A long, long swing...
Sailing in a boat...
Textures. How do clouds look in the sky?
Sunday 4 December 2016
My Running Story
Written on 25th Nov, 2016, provided to Peeran Cheruvu Runners as promotional material for their Annual Run.
In one way or another, sport had always
been a part of my life. As a kid, I loved running after my friends, jumping in
the pool, hoolahooping, and basically anything that made me lose my breath. I
was the kid that came down first and went home last. My friend’s grandmother
would sometimes give me a weary stare when I came knocking, and say ‘No, your
friend is studying!’ Anyways, you get the idea.
I always passively knew that my dad ran
marathons, but I’d never ventured to figure out why. And I say “passively”
because had I known what it took to run such crazy distances, I’d have been a
hell of a lot more proud of him than I was.
In 2014, I dropped out of school to study
from home. It was a drastic change for a person whose life revolved around
friends and school. Suddenly, I had nobody to play with. No throw ball. No
kabaddi (how I miss Kabaddi!). It was then that my father said, “Okay, let’s
get out and run!” The Club Run held by Hyderabad Runners every year was
scheduled for that Feb, and Dada said I could train for a 3K. In my mind, I
thought “Wow! 3 kilometers! If I can do this, I’m strong!” With a month and a
half to go for race day, I started (mentally!) preparing myself. But I’m
characteristically a procrastinator. It wasn’t until 3 weeks before race day
that I actually laced my shoes on and said, “Okay, let’s do this.” I ran 1½
kilometers that day. And then 3 kilometers the next. And then, suddenly, I
wasn’t satisfied. The next week, I dragged Dada down with me with a plan to run
20 rounds of the ground downstairs. 20 rounds came and went. I went to sleep
that night having done 35 rounds of the ground (7.5 kilometers,) and feeling
extremely smug. The next week, I ran 50 rounds. 10 kilometers under my belt.
Hell, I could do this!
That Feb, I ran my first 10K, earned my
first runners medal, and had the biggest smile on my sunburnt face.
For the next year and a half, I ran 5Ks and
10Ks in almost every event that was held in Hyderabad. I ran a 7K in Ladakh and
a 10K in Goa. It was contagious. And to be completely honest, what I enjoyed
even more than the run itself was to be with the runners. There’s such a sense
of enthusiasm and encouragement and general joviality when you’re with runners.
Before and after the race, it’s so wonderful that you have to experience it to
cherish it!
In May 2016, I decided to run the half marathon at AHM, 2016. As usual, it wasn’t until (almost) too late that I bucked up. The maximum distance I’d run was 13K, and with less than 2 months to go, I began panicking. Should I downgrade? I mean, I was probably kidding myself, I didn’t have it in me to run 21 long and frustrating kilometres. When I voiced my concerns, Dada flatly refused. No way are you downgrading, he told me. Okay, that left one option: run the distance. I started training in the evenings, inching towards the target distance ever so slowly. On each and every one of my long distance runs I had Dada by my side, willing me to go the extra distance (and most importantly carrying the weight of my water bottle!). When I completed my final long run (18K), I didn’t feel dead or exhausted (as I had felt after my first 16k). I felt energised. I felt alert. And yes, granted, my legs yearned for the warm bed, but something in me knew that if I willed it to happen, it would happen.
In May 2016, I decided to run the half marathon at AHM, 2016. As usual, it wasn’t until (almost) too late that I bucked up. The maximum distance I’d run was 13K, and with less than 2 months to go, I began panicking. Should I downgrade? I mean, I was probably kidding myself, I didn’t have it in me to run 21 long and frustrating kilometres. When I voiced my concerns, Dada flatly refused. No way are you downgrading, he told me. Okay, that left one option: run the distance. I started training in the evenings, inching towards the target distance ever so slowly. On each and every one of my long distance runs I had Dada by my side, willing me to go the extra distance (and most importantly carrying the weight of my water bottle!). When I completed my final long run (18K), I didn’t feel dead or exhausted (as I had felt after my first 16k). I felt energised. I felt alert. And yes, granted, my legs yearned for the warm bed, but something in me knew that if I willed it to happen, it would happen.
I won’t lie. My first half marathon was
exhausting. I crossed the finish line with my legs feeling wobbly. I just
wanted to lie in a cool place and doze off. I felt a slight throbbing in my
head. But you know what? All through the distance, on every high and every low,
and every exhausting incline that this city has to offer, not one part of me
regretted it. I can proudly say that there wasn’t a single moment on the whole
course that my legs stopped working. I didn’t walk up a single incline or stop
in a single place (I even took my water on the run!). I ran the entire
distance, start to finish, every bit of the 21.1K course, and I was so proud.
You have to run it to experience it. So,
lace on those shoes and get out. Because it’s worth it.
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